


Blackmail 101

by ArientheSun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Blackmail, Chemistry teacher Stiles, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Fluff, Highschool AU, Humor, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Physics teacher Derek, Stiles is such a fuckin goober, Teacher AU, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArientheSun/pseuds/ArientheSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Stiles peeks around the cold bumper of the Prius, open mouthed in shock and awe. Even though the street is black and silent, he keeps his voice a whisper, as though yelling might break the majesty of the situation. “The greatest thing in the history of the world is happening just down the street.”</em>
</p>
<p>  <em>Lydia shuffles closer, awkwardly crouching in her heels, jostling to see around the car’s headlight. “What is it? I don’t see - OH! Who is that?”</em></p>
<p>  <em>“Derek Hale.”</em></p>
<p>“The<em> Derek Hale. The hot colleague you won’t shut up about?”</em></p>
<p>  <em>“Uh-huh.”</em></p>
<p>  <em>“And the car belongs to?”</em></p>
<p>  <em>“Our boss.”</em></p>
<p>  <em>“Seriously?”</em></p>
<p>  <em>“Yep.” Stiles’ open mouth shock morphs in an exuberant, triumphant smile.</em> “Derek Hale is vandalising Principle Greenburg’s car!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackmail 101

**Author's Note:**

> this thing based off a tumblr prompt: "I saw you vandalising the principle's car. have dinner with me or I'm telling everyone." I modified it a bit and it just took on a little life of its own. 
> 
> (also i have no idea how american schools work. any errors are my own, and you have my apologies)

The night is warm and cloudless, a thousand stars speckling the sky above him. Stiles sighs contently with his full stomach and pleasantly alcohol muffled brain, grateful for the pleasures a free Saturday night could bring. Lydia walks beside him, smiling a little giddily, gorgeous in her dress and heels. His eyes wander from his friend up the darkened street before them where-.

Stiles stops walking so suddenly Lydia has to double back to meet him. His mouth is open, mind struggling to processes just what he was looking at. _The figure down the road. The car he was crouching next to._ Lydia makes some angry noises and then some ones of concern, but Stiles barely hears her. This can’t be real. Softly but with a lot of feeling, he whispers, “ _No. Fucking. Way._ ”

Lydia’s eyes flick between Stiles and the deserted street ahead of them. “What the hell are you looking at?” 

Stiles responds by grabbing her elbow and yanking her down behind a parked car beside them. Lydia snatches her arm away and hisses, “Okay seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Stiles peeks around the cold bumper of the Prius, open mouthed in shock and awe. Even though the street is black and silent, he keeps his voice a whisper, as though yelling might break the majesty of the situation. “The greatest thing in the history of the world is happening just down the street.”

Lydia shuffles closer, awkwardly crouching in her heels, jostling to see around the car’s headlight. “What is it? I don’t see - OH! Who is that?”

“Derek Hale.”

“ _The_ Derek Hale? The hot colleague you won’t shut up about?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And the car belongs to?”

“Our boss.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” Stiles’ open mouth shock morphs in an exuberant, triumphant smile. _“Derek Hale is vandalising Principle Greenburg’s car!”_

“Are you sure?” Lydia asks, voice turning sceptical, squinting down the road. “It's midnight and all I see is some guy spray-painting a car. How do you know its him?”

Stiles shakes his head in exasperation. He could never mistake those heavy-set shoulders, the severe set to his jaw. That’s Derek Hale, the enigmatic and disastrously handsome Mathematics and Physics teacher, no doubt about it. And the car that he is currently kneeling besides, spray can in hand, is their boss’ beloved 89’ Mustang that Stiles has parked next to every day for three years.  


“Trust me Lyds,” he whispers, giving her a small nudge, “do not doubt me on such matters as these. That’s Greenburg’s car and that is definitely Hale’s butt.”

Lydia nods seriously in a _you would know_ kind of way. "So that’s the guy you’ve been mooning over for three months?”

Stiles’ smile collapses as he spares her an irritated glace, “I haven’t been _mooning_ , god!”

Without breaking her gaze away, Lydia adopts a fairly reasonable mockery of his voice, “Oh but he’s got such nice _eyes,_ and he’s so great with his _students_ , and _my_ students all love him and _his ass is just a gift to human kind._ ”

“Okay okay, there may have been some one-sided-.”

“Mooning.”

“ _Physical and mental appreciation._ ”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“Yes. And I’d prefer to keep it that way.” Stiles can hear the faint hiss of Derek’s spray can, but can’t quite make out through the darkness just what he’s writing on Greenburg’s baby. 

Stiles shakes his head, and can’t keep that giddy grin off his face. Mister Hale, teacher of maths, physics and the AP courses, tutors struggling students in his spare time and coaches the Mathletes. Strong and silent and the most dedicated teacher Stiles ever met (well, second-most. He’s the first, of course). And here he is, perfect Mister Hale of the Perfect Butt, vandalising their boss’ car. 

It almost defies belief, and yet, there it is. 

The world truly is a marvellous place sometimes. 

Apparently satisfied with his work, Derek stands, glances up and down the street, and continues walking in the opposite direction with a nonchalant stride. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Stiles whispers, watching him leave. “I can’t. This is too beautiful. This is too much for one person to handle. I may combust or something. I have to know what he wrote.”

Stiles stands suddenly and, Lydia following behind, half-runs up the street to Greenburg’s mustang. When he sees it, he lets out a laugh like a bark.

**GREENBURG IS AN ASSHOLE**

Lydia smirks appreciatively as Stiles snaps a photo. “What’s this guy’s problem with your boss?”

Stiles frowns, “Actually, I’m not sure. Dude’s like the model teacher. All the students love him; his Mathletes have won the state championship _three times_. Although, if I got to stare at that butt for fifty minutes straight, I’d get pretty into Pythagoras too.”

“So you have no idea?”

“Not really, no.”

She rolls her eyes as they begin walking once again, “So, what are you going to do about this?”

“What do you mean?”

His friend smiles sweetly, looping her arm through his, her voice patient as though talking to a stupid puppy, “Stiles, you are in possession of important information. Information Derek would not want to reach his boss’ ears.”

Stiles puts on a good show of indignation, “Lydia Martin! Blackmail? I would never!” And she spares him a look, all raised eyebrows and turned down mouth, and he relents, “I would! But like, not Hale. I mean… I like the guy. He looks like he could rip someone’s throat out with his teeth, but I’ve seen him looking at cat videos on his lunch break. He’s smart and strong and oh my god, you have not lived until you’ve seen Derek Hale make a joke- it’s so bizarre, like watching a cat walk on its hind legs. But he’s _funny._ ”

“Okay, okay,” Lydia relents, “so you like the guy and it’s all squishy and gross. All I’m saying is that you have a prime opportunity to use this information to your advantage.”

Stiles doesn’t respond, but there’s another grin slowly forming on his face, “I may just have to … gently coerce him into having dinner with me.”

Lydia smiles triumphantly, “excellent! Blackmail!”

_“Gentle coercion!”_

She shakes her head just as they begin to climb to stairs to his apartment, “Whatever you say, Stilinksi.”

~~~~~~

 

Monday morning, Stiles got up early. The plan, which had been much discussed, debated, and disputed between himself and Lydia, was for him to beat Hale to the school and be waiting for him in the break room where Derek took his coffee every morning. There, he would make his move. He even contemplated bringing in the rolling chair from his office, so that when Derek walked in, Stiles could spin around and tell him that he’d been expecting him, Mister Hale. All he needed was a cat. 

That, however, was not how the plan went down.

Sleep itching at his eyes and a large cup of coffee in hand, Stiles strode into the break room to find Derek already there. School didn't start for an _hour and a half_ , yet he had beaten Stiles to work, once again. It didn’t help that he looked pleasantly sleep-muffled, wearing a sweater and a dozy-eyed expression. A cup of coffee was grasped in one sweater-paw as he glanced through a textbook on the table before him. Wide windows behind him gave a beautiful view of the slate-grey sky, promising rain. Stiles couldn’t even huff in annoyance because Derek looked so damn cute. _Asshole_.

Instead, he sighed into the seat opposite him, Derek glancing up at the intrusion. Stiles blinked and struggled to remember where the plan was supposed to go from here. He cleared his throat, “Heya Derek. How are you this lovely, _early_ , morning?”

Without taking his eyes off him, Derek sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest, brows scrunched ever so slightly. "Okay. What is it?" 

Stiles rested his hand on his palm, gave him a sweet smile, "What's what?" 

“You've got that look.”

“What look?”

Derek pursed his lips in irritation, “the look that you've done something. Or know something. And you're just dying to tell me. Besides, you’re never here this early. ” He thumped his book shut and re-crossed his arms, “So what is it?”

Stiles grinned, raised his eyebrows high, “you know my looks?”

Derek let his glare speak for him, “what is it Stilinski?”

"So…” Stiles began, that grin still eating at his face, “I heard what happened to Greenburg's mustang.”

Derek was less than amused. “The whole school heard what happened to Greenburg's mustang.” 

Stiles nodded. That was true. There was no place where news travelled faster than in a high school, especially if that news concerned the humiliation of the principle. “Valid point. However!” Stiles leaned back in his chair, mirroring Derek except for the smirk on his face, “I know what was written on it.”

Derek didn't move, but his eyes flickered up and down Stiles, judging. “Do you?”

“Greenburg certainly is an asshole, Derek.” Stiles grinned, sitting forward again, barely able to contain his delight, “No one’s blaming you for that.” 

Derek clicked his jaw and did something strange with his mouth. “You saw.” 

“You bet your ass I did!” Stiles exclaimed triumphantly. He whipped out his phone and showed Derek the photo he had taken Saturday night, which was conveniently set as his wallpaper. “I saw the whole astonishing adventure, start to finish.” Stiles pushed his phone away and folded his hands together, scrutinising Derek from across the wooden table. “What I don’t understand is why. Why’d you do it, Hale?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Believe me, if I were interrogating you, you’d know it.”

“What does that even _mean?_ ”

“Come on! I’m literally dying here, Derek! I need to know what would make mister Teacher of the Year Award go all avenger on his boss!”

“You’re not dying _literally,_ ” Derek scoffed. 

But Stiles had mad skills when it came to coaxing information out of people. “DEEEREEEK. Come on man! TEEEELLL MEEEE.” It usually just involved being as annoying as possible. 

Derek breathed heavily through his nose like an angry bull. “He’s going to cancel Mathletes, okay?”

Stiles couldn’t help his amusement from bubbling forth in his voice, “he’s-uhm, going to cancel Mathletes?

The textbook in front of Derek went whooshing across the table as he pushed it towards Stiles, seriously endangering both their coffees in the process. Stiles stopped its flight and looked at the cover with surprise. It wasn’t a textbook, as he thought, it was… Stiles raised a brow, “ _the Annual Budget Review of the Greater Eastern Californian High School Districts, Fourth Edition_? Don’t think I’ve read it. I’ll probs see the movie though.”

Stiles definitely saw it that time, a tiny twitching, almost microscopic, right in the corner of Derek’s mouth. Could it be... a smirk? “I’ve been over the entire thing, and Greenburg was right. There’s no money to keep the Mathletes going, let alone cover the travel costs to get the team to championships in San Francisco every year. He’s cancelling the program.”

“Wait wait wait,” Stiles held up a hand, waving the thick report around with the other, “are you saying that Greenburg is cancelling your Mathletes because they’re too good?” 

Derek shrugged, voice flat, but his jaw was set rigid, “basically, yes.”

“Wow,” Stiles admonished, thumping the report back onto the table, “Greenburg really is an asshole.” 

The only acknowledgement of Sties’ point Derek gave was a bare twitching of his eyebrows. “Is there a point to all this, Stiles?” 

Stiles blinked at the change in topic. “I-.” His mouth had suddenly become dry. His hand fiddled with he edges of the report, while the other tapped quietly against the rim of his coffee mug. Now or never. The words rushed out of him like air, “Go to dinner with me or I’ll tell everyone.” Or like vomit. 

Derek raised his eyebrows as he rose quietly from his seat. “What?”

Stiles jumped up as Derek stepped around the table to meet him. Derek was very tall, Stiles realised. Like, eight foot at least. “Just go to dinner with me. Just once. And I’ll keep your secret. I’ll be like your Alfred, protecting your secret identity with my life.” As Stiles spoke, Derek bore down on him, all scowls and jawline, but Stiles stood his ground, defiant as he closed in. And also fairly certain that despite his scowls and rugged jawline, there was a smile itching to spread out from Derek’s lips. “I have proof remember? With the miracle called the Internet, I can show everyone. Like from here to _some guy living as in Inuit in rural Alaska_ , everyone”

Derek stopped inches away, cocked his head to one side, “so you’re blackmailing me?”

“I like to think of it as gentle coercion.” The Glare intensified. Stiles still refused to back away. His chair, however, was digging painfully into the side of his leg. He was also very aware of the stubble on Derek’s jawline and just how tiny and cute his ears were. _How did I ever notice that, they’re like an elf’s_. “But – but to save yourself _and your job_ , all you have to do is sit through one meal,” he tapped Derek lightly on his chest, “with just me and you. Sounds fair, right? Good deal, right?” 

Derek nodded calmly, his scowl replaced by his more relenting eyebrows. Stiles felt a surge of triumph. That is until, quick as a snake, Derek’s arm lashed out and grabbed Stiles' phone from where it was still sitting on the table. “HEY!” Stiles made a mad grab for his device, but Derek kept him at bay with an arm around his chest, while the other held his phone at arm’s reach. Stiles was shouting. “Don’t you dare, Hale!” He tried to squirm away, slipping under Derek’s arm, but Derek just chuffed in amusement and twisted the phone away. His arm was much longer than Stiles’, and he couldn’t reach it without first being rid of Derek’s death grip. On the plus side, he was pleasantly close to Derek’s pecks, and so his struggles were not as enthusiastic as they should have been. There were a few more moments of chuffing and shoving before Derek finally released his grip and turned back to Stiles. His face was flushed, Stiles’ phone in hand, an offering of peace. “Here, take it, stop trying to kick me.” Stiles snatched his phone back with a look of suspicion. Derek glanced down and curled his lip, “Did you lick my arm?”

Stiles glared at him, cradling his rescued phone, “I utilised a weapon at my disposal, yes.” Derek utilised their new proximity by wiping his drool-covered forearm on Stiles’ hoodie. “You deleted it, didn’t you?”

It was Derek’s turn to smirk. Stiles punched him in the shoulder, which hurt his wrist more than he was ever going to let on. “Well it doesn’t matter!” Stiles stated, resentfully straightening his wrinkled clothes and smoothing down his shirt. “I’ll tell Greenburg myself and my good character will be all the evidence I need. Ha ha you still have to have dinner with me.”

Derek snorted, tugging the sleeves down on Stiles’ hoodie. “Didn't Greenburg threaten to fire you your first day here?”

Stiles waved his hand dismissively. “That was just ridiculous. I'm a former teenage delinquent turned chemistry teacher and he thinks I _don't_ know how to make things explode safely? I was just getting my kids into the fun of chemistry. Who knew ceiling fans were so flammable and this is beside the point. Greenburg would definitely believe me.”

“Okay,” Derek shrugged and sat on the table, folding his arms across his chest as he faced Stiles. He nodded towards the door, “Go tell him.”

Stiles looked from Derek to the door, searching for a trap. “I- what?”

“Obviously there's no convincing you against your plan of dramatic action. Go tell him. He's in his office right now. I’ll wait.”

Stiles glared for a moment. “No.” He pointed a finger at Derek, suspicion etched all over his face, “what’s your angle, Hale?”

“You mean besides telling Greenburg that a colleague is blackmailing me into a date with him?”

Said like that, Stiles could hear the idiocy of his plan. _Lydia’s plan,_ he mentally corrected. _Her plan. Not mine_. “Not blackmail,” Stiles corrected, slapping Derek’s knee, “ _gentle coercion!_ Why do people keep getting those confused?” He began throwing his hands around, like he knew he did when he’s nervous. “And who said anything about a date? I just said dinner! Two bros, two colleagues, going to get some Chinese together. Or there's a really good Italian place just a block from mine. Two bros getting some nice Italian food with maybe a couple flowers for the table and maybe a candle or two. And some nice wine. Because I know how hard you work and you deserve someone who likes you to treat you nicely. Actually, fuck that. You deserve someone to rain down gifts upon you from the heavens themselves and who drives a Ferrari and has a butler named Alfred. Derek, you deserve Batman.” Stiles shook his head, “But this is off topic. Because the point of this is that its not a date. Ooh no, definitely not. Not a date.”

That smirk Derek had been trying so hard to suppress had vanished. In its place was a look so unreadable he seemed to be carved from marble. But Stiles could read him, he realised suddenly. Probably always could. Always will be able to. It was fear, just a little bit. Apprehension bubbling to the surface in the way Derek clasped the edge of the table, as though poised to sprint away. The defensive way he was staring at the noticeboard just over Stiles’ left shoulder, couldn't meet his eye. But maybe there, in the twitching corner of his cheek, in the red flush to his ears and the bright spark to his eyes, maybe that was, what? Happiness? Something good, anyway. 

“Greenburg knows.”

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it again. Took a pace and turned back to Derek, “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Derek sighed loudly, folded his hands between his knees, “I told him this morning.”

“You confessed?” Stiles admonished, throwing one hand up in the air, “dude! Never confess! There was no evidence against you!”

“What if one of my kids had been suspected?” 

Stiles nodded, “Okay, fair point, but he had no proof. He had nothing! You never confess to the fuzz if there’s not enough evidence to convict. Haven't you ever been interrogated by the po po?”

Derek raised his eyebrows, “you have?”

“That's beside the point.” Stiles got a sinking sensation right in his gut, “you’re going to be fired, Derek. They – will they even let you teach after this? Why do it if you were just going to confess?”

For the first time, Derek smiled softly. He tugged on the sleeve of Stiles’ coat, edging him closer. “I got a job at Berkley. Three-year contract lecturing in the theoretical physics department. I leave here in a month. Greenburg can’t fire me sooner – he hasn’t found a replacement yet. And I’ve signed the contract with the university – they can’t fire me for three years. So I thought, why not?” Derek looked soft, like he did this morning when Stiles first found him; soft and sleep-happy, like he was trying to remember a pleasant dream from the night before. He shrugged modestly, “It’s my dream job, actually.”

Stiles tried to sound upbeat, but that sinking feeling was dragging his smile down with it, because all he heard was _Derek is leaving _. “That’s great. Congratulations.” Stiles looked down as Derek’s knees brushed his thighs. “I guess you don’t have to go to dinner with me, then. Yay you.”__

He went to step away but Derek caught sleeve, tugged him back around so they were facing each other once again, Derek still sitting on the table with Stiles at his knees. “I would - uhm.” A flush tinged Derek’s cheeks. “I would like to go to that Italian place near your house. With you there, also.”

Stiles grinned, and curled his hand around Derek’s fingers that had tugged at his sleeve. He looked at their entwined hands for a moment and nodded, “Alright then.” Derek met his smile, shy and so unlike his normal stoic self that Stiles wanted to close that tiny distance between them and kiss him, then and there. “Hold up!” Derek looked taken aback when Stiles took his hand away and pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “If Greenburg already knows then why’d you delete the photo, nearly mutilating me in the process?”

Derek looked down as though ashamed, but Stiles quickly realised that he was, in fact, attempting badly to supress his laughter. “It was pretty funny,” Derek admitted through a snigger, “the way you tried to get it back. You looked like a cat does when it gets its head caught in something.”

“You asshole!” Stiles exclaimed as Derek started laughing. “I can’t believe this! My revenge will be swift and unexpected, Hale. Mark my words, I will get you back for this in the future.”

Stiles leaned forward against Derek once again, curling their hands together at his sides. Derek grinned up at him, “counting on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> let me know what you think 
> 
> xx


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